


singing how I always loved you, darling

by sarahyyy



Series: the final frontier [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: (well uh for most part), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You should not be out of bed, Captain,” Joly says, frowning slightly. “Your injuries have yet to fully heal.”</p><p>Enjolras waves off Joly’s concern. “It is not of consequence what condition I am in, Doctor. I assure you that I am functioning well.” He gestures to Grantaire. “I would like to be briefed of Lieutenant Grantaire’s injuries instead. It is to my understanding that he was not part of the away team assembled to facilitate my rescue, and as such should not have had the opportunity to suffer any injuries.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	singing how I always loved you, darling

**Author's Note:**

> Or, uh, four times Grantaire almost loses Enjolras in the line of duty, and one time Enjolras almost loses Grantaire himself.

1\. 

Enjolras wakes up in sickbay. 

This is not, in itself, uncommon. With the benefit of his superior Vulcan physiology, it is only logical for him to insist on taking on missions that prove to be significantly riskier for his Terran counterparts. 

The last mission to Alpha Laputa III saw him involved in a kidnapping. He has not retained much memory of what transpired due to the fact that his senses were dulled by the drugs they injected into his system to make him pliant to interrogation, but he theorises that his injuries stem from him undergoing copious amounts of torture. He flexes his fingers; the joints feel sore, and his hands still exhibit the slight glow that signifies that his skin has recently been regenerated. 

A soft whimper coming from the biobed next to him draws his attention, and he draws in a sharp breath when he sees Grantaire — eyes shut in sleep that is far from restful. 

He slides off his own bed, ignoring the ache of his body, and moves to cross the space between them. He has almost reached Grantaire when Joly shows up.

“You should not be out of bed, Captain,” Joly says, frowning slightly. “Your injuries have yet to fully heal.”

Enjolras waves off Joly’s concern. “It is not of consequence what condition I am in, Doctor. I assure you that I am functioning well.” He gestures to Grantaire. “I would like to be briefed of Lieutenant Grantaire’s injuries instead. It is to my understanding that he was not part of the away team assembled to facilitate my rescue, and as such should not have had the opportunity to suffer any injuries.”

“He’s mostly fine,” Joly tells Enjolras. “You’ve been in your healing trance for two days now, and Grantaire’s refused to leave your side, not for food or sleep, so Musichetta got worried and hyposprayed him with a mild sedative to make him sleep.”

Some of the tension eases from Enjolras’ shoulders. “He is well?” he asks again, because he wants to hear Joly confirm it.

“As well as he can be physically,” Joly assures him. “Now may I please check on your vitals, Captain?”

Instead of responding to Joly, Enjolras makes the last few steps over to Grantaire, and runs his fingers gently over Grantaire’s knuckles. Grantaire is obviously in distress, even in his sleep, and Enjolras does what he can to soothe Grantaire’s discomfort. 

He stays there for a moment, two, and then he steps back, and turns back to Joly. “You may begin, Doctor.”

 

2\. 

“Grantaire to _Musain_ ,” Grantaire is barking into his communicator. “Grantaire to _Musain_ , we need an emergency beam-out for two right now.”

“The targeting scanners are still down. We don’t have a lock on your location,” comes Combeferre’s urgent reply. “Five minutes till they reboot.”

“We don’t have five minutes,” Grantaire growls, and narrowly avoids a phaser blast on his right. 

Logically, Enjolras knows that there is nothing that Combeferre can do to speed the reboot of the targeting scanners up. He also knows that the injuries to his leg and shoulder are slowing them down by an estimated forty-three point six percent. Grantaire cannot bear the brunt of Enjolras’ weight, and still effectively defend himself from the Cardassian mercenaries after them. Should they continue going forth in such a fashion, the Cardassians will no doubt capture them within the next seven point three minutes. 

The likelihood of Grantaire making it out of this building unscathed increases exponentially if Enjolras takes himself out of the equation. He spots an access panel twenty feet ahead, and it is not difficult at all to come the decision that he has to do all he can to make sure Grantaire gets to safety. 

He pushes Grantaire forward when they come to the panel, and Grantaire stumbles, falling to the ground. Enjolras takes the opportunity to seal the door shut, firing at the access panel after to ensure that no-one will be going through that door. He raises his phaser and aims it at the advancing Cardassians. His aim is not entirely as accurate as he would like it to be as he is not shooting with his dominant hand, and it is unlikely that he will be able to incapacitate all of the Cardassian mercenaries, but he intends on taking out as many of them as he is able to.

From behind him, Grantaire bangs on the glass door separating them with his fists. 

Enjolras ignores him, blocks out Grantaire’s cries as well as he is able to, and concentrates on the task at hand. As his targets near, his aim gets significantly better, and more of them fall. He is just about to recalculate the odds of him being able to pull this off when his phaser jams. 

“ _No_ ,” Grantaire says from behind him. “No, no, no, no, _no_.” 

Enjolras turns slightly to face Grantaire, and flashes him a small smile. He is gratified that Grantaire, at least, is safe. 

He sets his phaser down onto the ground beside him, and waits for what is coming.

His gaze has just locked onto that of the leader of the Cardassian mercenaries aiming at him, when he feels the pull of the transporter beam. 

 

3.

“Tomorrow, they will offer you a deal. They will then demand that you hurt me, to prove your loyalty,” Enjolras tells Grantaire quietly, when they bring him back to the cell he shares with Grantaire. “And you must.”

Grantaire’s eyes go wide. “You want me to play the Starfleet traitor? I won’t, I _can’t_ ,” he hisses. “What the fuck, Enjolras? We had a plan!”

“And now a better plan has presented itself,” Enjolras says. He does not add that their previous plan will not be able to work right now, due to their captivity, because that much is obvious.

Grantaire shakes his head. “Why don’t you hurt me instead?”

“That would be illogical,” Enjolras says. “Vulcans can withstand more pain than humans can. We are, due to the superiority in our strength, able to afflict more pain upon humans too. We are also not known for turning against the causes we believe in. It would not be believable, if I were the one to sell the Federation out.”

“No,” Grantaire grits out. “I don’t care how you try to rationalise this. I won’t hurt you. I’d rather remain in captivity forever.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says, and he reaches out to clasp Grantaire’s shoulder. “We need to apply logic and rationality in this situation. Right here, right now, we must be officers of the Federation first. The success of this mission must be our top priority.”

Grantaire draws a shaky breath. And then another. He reaches out, trails his fingers gently over the bruise blossoming over Enjolras’ cheek, over Enjolras’ split lip, over the cut from a blade under Enjolras’ jaw. 

“I _can’t_ ,” he says, voice breaking. He leans forward, rests his forehead on Enjolras’ shoulder. “Don’t make me hurt you, don’t ask me to do something I can’t do.”

“If you do not, they will hurt you,” Enjolras says quietly. He speaks from experience. He is wearing the result of his defiance on his body, and the thought of Grantaire going through the same process hurts him more than the actual injuries on his body do. “I will not have you suffer unnecessarily.”

“I’d rather be hurt than hurt you,” Grantaire tells him, and it is obvious that Grantaire has made up his mind, and that Enjolras can say nothing to change his decision. 

Enjolras will not force Grantaire’s hand. He will find another way to keep Grantaire safe.

When their Klingon captors come for Grantaire the next day, Enjolras throws himself at them, and antagonises them into a physical altercation. He tells them that they are weak and spineless to want to take on a human instead of a Vulcan. He taunts them, reminds them of his reputation as the unbreakable captain of the USS _Musain_ , says that they will never be able to get anything out of him.

When they leave the cell, it is with him, not Grantaire, and it is that thought that Enjolras holds on to as they Klingons experiment with inflicting varying degrees of pain upon him.

They have broken both Enjolras’ femurs, and several of his ribs, when Bahorel charges in with his rescue team.

Enjolras barely manages a _Make sure Grantaire is safe_ before he passes out.

 

4\. 

Enjolras is aware of a few things, even in his state — the dimming of the sky around them as the sun sets, the cold rush of wind settling uncomfortably on his skin, but mostly, he can feel Grantaire gripping his hand tightly, can hear Grantaire murmuring, “Stay with me, stay with me, Enjolras, _stay with me_.”

He knows, logically, that with the blood loss that he’s sustained, his chances of survival are critically low, especially with the Musain still not in contact. He wants to point this out to Grantaire, but recognises that it might not be appropriate. He settles for squeezing Grantaire’s hand back.

“Stay with me,” Grantaire says again, pleading. “Don’t leave me, _ashal-veh_.” _Darling_.

Grantaire’s voice is small and sad, and Enjolras feels Grantaire’s fear and grief wash over him in tidal waves, and he thinks to himself that he needs to pull through, needs to make it out of this forrest, needs to live, even though the odds are not in his favour, because Grantaire _needs him to_.

He slips into a healing trance.

 

5.

Grantaire arches an eyebrow at him when he enters Enjolras’ ready room. “Am I in trouble?” he asks, face scrunching up. “I don’t think I’ve done anything yet, but I also don’t think you’ve called me here for a chat, so.”

“I just received word from the admiralty,” Enjolras says, keeping his face blank, and his voice even. “You have been offered a promotion to the rank of Lieutenant Commander.”

Grantaire’s face lights up.

Enjolras does all he can to quell the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“This’ll be my second promotion in eight months!” Grantaire says, grinning. “I’m surprised that the admiralty likes me so much.” 

“You have proven yourself to be an exceptional officer. Why would the admiralty not want to award you for that?” Enjolras asks. 

Grantaire’s smile widens; Enjolras balls his hands up tightly behind his back. There is not doubt now that Grantaire will accept his promotion, and Enjolras should know better than to experience disappointment at the thought, but he does all the same. 

Grantaire must read something in Enjolras’ face, because his smile dim slightly, and he asks, “What’s the catch? There is a catch, isn’t there?”

Enjolras straightens. “Your promotion is contingent upon your acceptance of a transfer to the USS _Patron Minette_. Captain Claquesous has made a request for you as his First Officer.”

Grantaire is not smiling anymore. “They want to transfer me off the ship?”

“Affirmative,” Enjolras says. 

“And you think I should go?” Grantaire asks. He is holding himself unusually still.

“I did not say that,” Enjolras says. 

Grantaire blinks at him. “What do you think I should do, then?”

Enjolras stiffens. “As your captain, it is my duty to point out that an opportunity such as this would be very beneficial for you in furthering your career,” he tells Grantaire. “You are right in observing that the admiralty favours you. It is likely that if you carry on in the admiralty’s favour, you will be able to captain your own ship in seven point three four years.”

“Okay,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras’ heart clenches tightly in his side. “That’s your professional opinion. What’s your personal opinion? Do you want me off your ship?”

“My professional opinion should be the only one relevant in this matter,” Enjolras tells him. He tells himself again that it is illogical to want to keep Grantaire here, when he could be doing something else, something _better_. 

Grantaire sighs, and says, “Look. I don’t want an opportunity to further my career. I’m not looking to captain my own ship. I like being on the _Musain_ with my friends. With you.” He looks right into Enjolras’ eyes and says, “The only reason I’d ever leave the _Musain_ is if you want me to, so I’ll ask you again — do you want me off your ship?”

Enjolras unlaces his hands from behind his back, and reaches out to take one of Grantaire’s hands in his. 

Enjolras shakes his head firmly once, and Grantaire’s smile lights the room.

**Author's Note:**

> The way I see this, this is all after _adequate_ and before they get Vulcan-married in _fine_ , but I supposed #1 and #2 could be read as pre-relationship. 
> 
> When will I stop being weak for Star Trek AUs, you ask? IDK BUT I'D LIKE TO FIND OUT TOO.
> 
> Title from Coldplay's _Christmas Lights_. :)
> 
> As usual, I'm [here on tumblr](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com/), come say hi! :D


End file.
